Hobbit - no title
by Heart'sRose
Summary: He loved them all so much, and would do anything for them, it's what made the pain worth it, even if they were no longer there for him. He would much rather have them alive hating him then die loving him, even if he was the who died for their love.


Hey i dont know where this came from, or if i will continue writing it, if enough people are interested i might continue although i may continue if no one is interested lol. This is unedited, but i thought i would put it up anyhow. My other story 'Wish" goes before this story no matter what, and this maybe be drafted to my discontinued story lump so dont get attached or anything :P Criticism is welcome but dont be too mean :P

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He woke up in the middle of the battle field, it was almost startling how different it was from just a few hours (_days, months, years_) ago. It was near silence, the only sound was the flapping of greedy black wings, crows he realized distantly, searching for more carrion. He could not move he was disconnected from his own body; barely able to even distinguish the quiet night sky full of stars, (a huge contrast to the smoke and cries of agony from before.)

_The flash of an axe, an orc head rolling across the blood-soaked ground, face forever frozen in a grotesque snarl-Matted fur and harsh growls from the beast he had been riding before the warg too was wiped out-Beads flashing in the dim light of the sun, the fierce expression of a dwarf fighting for those he cared about-Men roaring battle cries as they fought desperately against an enemy too great for them-the roar of something greater and kinder than a warg but no less fierce, a towering bear-the ferocious but regal elves decimating the enemy, the twang of their arrows being released always followed by the soft thump of it reaching its target-thundering echoes, wind tousling his sweaty curls-relief-_"The eagles have come!" –_the sound of their mighty wing-beats mocking those of the ravens. More screams, for the battle was not yet over, those he loved were still fighting- and then pain, mind-numbing agony as if his very blood was on fire-he had not been quick enough, he had not been fast enough!-crimson and black, tangy iron and salt- he was not made for battle!-a triumphant and familiar voice roaring in victory- and then darkness. _

He could not even feel the pain anymore, just a horrifying numbness that had slowly crept into his bones, easing the pain but bringing a distant feeling that he hated even more than the burning. His curls hung limp with mud and gore, he blinked (and it took _so _long to reopen his eyes after he closed them). He knew this time he was not going to escape his fate, that this time was surely the end, despite all the odds he had faced, for now he was a traitor. Despite the fact he did it to protect them, (his _family) _he still betrayed the trust of those who were so mistrustful to begin with (_ice blue eyes flashed with hatred, as cold as the stone he had stolen from him_). All had turned away from him as he was forced from Erebor, (_he thought it could have been home_) and not one turned back. He would never forgive himself for the betrayal, how could he expect them to? He knew he was not going to be found… for who was going to look? He had no friends here and from the beginning he did not think he would survive the journey. He did not regret leaving his home (_rolling green hills, a warm fire, smoke curling from a pipe or soft rings puffed out leisurely_) although he did miss it. It was worth it though, in the end, for he had heard a king's roar of triumph before he had been struck, Erebor had been reclaimed, his family would no longer suffer the brutal injustice of being locked from their own home. Though they had survived as wanderers quite well, they would thrive in the mountain and be happy. He blinked again (he was not sure his eyes would open once more) he only wished he could see them once more, his companions, his friends of the soul.

_Golden braids blew in the harsh wind as a young dwarf broke the stream of cold air for him - laughing dark eyes over a mischievous smile daring him to continue- a shy hope gleaming in the eyes of the quietest in the company – the pride and longing of a family as distant as his own home flashed in a golden locket kept tucked near the breast of another- the kind understanding eyes following him as he had almost left the company, hid in the shadow of a hat- the endearing grumblings from the largest just as hungry as he was- the gentle reassurance from the oldest who never judged him from the very beginning, a fierce glare and hidden kindness from his brother, the warrior- the stern brooding of a king without a mountain and even occasionally the twinkle in the eye of an old grumpy wizard._

A knowing acceptance settled over him then, he could make peace with this end, even if he didn't catch a last glimpse of his family, he could die knowing he did everything he could to protect them. He did not mind if he passed on without their friendship as long as he knew he had tried, and he had. He had tried _so damn hard_, from the beginning even as unsure as he was, he had tried and that was all he could have done. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End had succeeded and finally the Hobbit closed his eyes with a smile and let the darkness take him once more.

The battle had ended successfully; all of the members of the company were accounted for, and although some were heavily injured, none of the wounds were deadly or crippling. They were all whole and he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Although he could not quite embrace the joy of reclaiming the mountain yet, too many were in mourning, the battle had ended in too much bloodshed, though thankfully his kin had all survived. It was appalling how close he had come to losing everything; he had sworn he would never fall for gold sickness for he had seen the effects on both his father and grandfather before him. Yet he had, it was shaming and he was embarrassed to call himself king, for how could he look at his nephews and heirs to the throne knowing what he had almost done? How could he look at their mother, his sister, without an overwhelming shame at what he had almost caused? Kili's survival was in the balance for a time, the stress of battle so soon after recovering from his leg wound had shocked the body and it had almost failed him. He would never forget the sound of his brother's weeping, Fili usually so strong, so distraught over the failing strength of his brother. But they had both pulled through.

He would never forget all he owed to the little Halfling, who he had to thank, though it would take some time, he wished he could run to the Halfling's side now, but he was surely halfway to the Shire already. He almost cringed at the thought; the little creature was another greasy mark on his conscience, for after all he had done for the company, Thorin had tossed him away without thought. Gold sickness had made him dim and greedy and he had nearly killed the hobbit, he was reminded of the disgust he had had for the Master of Laketown, his piggish eyes cold and lust for gold the only thing that remained. The one difference between him and the master was that the master had at least retained some intelligence whereas Thorin had lost all logic and became no more than a beast. The sight of his nephews rushing to battle was what snapped him out of it thankfully; at least he knew his love for his family was stronger than his lust for gold. He only wished it had extended to include the little hobbit who while once had looked at him with such respect, looked so terrified of him, last he saw.

Gandalf strode into the tent his face usually so kind and open, looked to be made of ice, cold and hard. An angry bitterness that he was surprised to see from the wizard, who he did not think could hate anyone. Thorin although could guess it was left over resentment from his treatment of the hobbit was curious for the wizard also in contrast looked gravely concerned.

"Bilbo has gone missing, I had thought he was recuperating after the battle with Bard and the other men but he was not there when I went to inquire after him, had not even been seen since the battle by any, nor was he with the elves, who said much the same. I had not thought he would be with the dwarves after everything but I have to ask, Thorin, when was the last you saw Bilbo?" the wizard looked resigned half-expecting some angry outburst at the mention of the Halfling, but all Thorin could feel was shock. The Halfling had gone to battle? He was so small and inexperienced. Although he had proven his courage and loyalty he was soft to the ways of battle, he could not picture it.

_A small form quivering before the fire, and although it disgusted him to some degree that such a weak being had been asked to come on this quest with them, he was also filled with pity and fondness. The hobbit's eyes were tired but still gleamed with intelligence and strength and his copper hair glowed in the light of the fire, like a polished kettle. Such contradictions, he did not know how to feel about the hobbit. How such a tiny creature could both be so weak and so strong he did not know-the fear that raced through him as the hobbit held on only by one hand from the ledge on a stone giant's knee- the same trembling Halfling standing tall (still quivering) in defiance of Azog in order to protect him-an annoyed scowl as the Halfling was compared to a fat bunny by a bear of a man-a song raised through the darkness of Mirkwood taunting spiders as large as ponies in order to distract them from his family-a tired but now reliable figure appearing blocking the light of the door, keys in hand- a clever plan already in place to save the dwarves from the elves forgetting about his own escape, for hobbits could not swim-He then saw Bilbo again lost in the maze of a battlefield, surrounded on all sides by towering figures, blood and grime squishing between his unprotected toes, copper hair red and lank with the blood splattering around him. His letter opener the only defence against those thrice as tall, still defiant but out of depth in the haze of bloodthirsty enemies and allies alike._

"No," Thorin breathed horrified, not believing the Wizard's words, for if the hobbit was not safe on his jolly way to the Shire and not among them there was really only one place he could be. Gandalf looked surprised by his reaction (and he was filled with a brief but intense rage) but the severe look on his face quickly softened at the horrified shock on Thorin's.

"You do not think he would flee when his entire company was doing battle? I thought you knew Bilbo better than that. Even with your anger he would-could not desert you. He has never been close to anyone before your company of dwarves appeared, save for his parents who died when he was just in his tweens. But once a Hobbit loves he does not let go, it is the only time a Hobbit can be fierce. Has he not shown this to you? Has he not proven himself?" The wizard's body seemed to crumple slightly into itself, as if a great weight had been suddenly put on his shoulder and his mouth tipped downwards as he spoke "…But if he is not with you then we must fear the worst…he must still be out there somewhere."

There was a long drawn out pause before Thorin threw himself from the bed, momentarily forgetting about his injuries in his need to get up, his heart beating rapidly at the image, at the _fear_ that the Halfling lay abandoned amongst the bodies of their enemies, alone. Either weighted down by his injuries and terrified or –he could not think of the possibility not when he had so much left to say to the silly creature. But his body faltered not able to withstand the strain of being vertical and he would have landed on his face if the wizard had not steadied him with a gentle hand.

"You cannot look for him yourself Thorin, you need to recover, your wounds are no mere scratches and to force yourself before your body is ready would be foolish." The wizard who had been so cold before now looked at him in sympathy, and it made his blood boil, how could the wizard understand that he had to find the Halfling? That he had a debt to the little creature who had given so much to them and received nothing in return? The image of Bilbo's terrified face once more flashed through his mind and he wanted to struggle to push through his own pain, but he had little choice but to let the wizard guide him back to into the bed he had been laying in. His body was too weak even with his stubbornness. He could not look for the Halfling, but he would be damn sure that every available dwarf would be out searching for him. He called for Dain and put the word out that the battlefield was to be combed thoroughly in search of the Halfling until he was found dead or alive.

He dreaded what was coming next. The entire company was at his bedside at his command, all curious as to what their king could need so soon after the battle. He had called the company and they had once more answered without question, though all were tired, and all were injured in some way or another. Kili who was the most injured, was leaning heavily on Fili, but even they were both bright-eyed as they waited for him to speak. He did not want to begin.

"It has come to my attention…" his words stuttered for a moment "The hobbit did not return to the Shire as I previously thought. I was shocked to find that the Halfling, Bilbo fought in battle alongside us…and is still unaccounted for."

The company froze, like he had, unable to comprehend even the idea of their hobbit dazed and trapped by his own body in the middle of horror of the battlefield. To some the news came registered slowly but Dwalin's face swiftly became stormy in rage and Kili's already pale face went chalk white. Ori who had always been shy had been one of the first to befriend the Halfling and as the truth dawned on him his eyes filled with tears, Bofur had taken off his hat and was wringing it in both hands. All of the company were equally horrified.

After another heartbeat, another second without breath all the dwarves started talking and yelling at once. There had not been such noise since their meeting at the shire, though this time the noise was without any cheer. Finally Thorin had had enough and his voice rose above all others to silence them. Bofur was the first to break the silence, hesitating before speaking quietly, "I had thought I had heard his voice…When the eagles came, it rose above the rest of the noise of the battlefield, filled with such hope. I did not believe it, I thought I was imagining things." As he said this he gave a particular harsh twist to his wrinkled hat, all eyes were now focussed on him, and although not shy he shrank at the attention.

"The eagles only arrived near the end of the battle; if you remember where you were at the time we could narrow the search!" But Bofur was already shaking his head as Fili's excited hope died. Bombur had started to tremble silently, hands fumbling together in dread and Ori had put his face in his hands and moaned unintelligibly.

"There was too much chaos, it looked the same as every other bit of the battlefield I was on, I would not be able to pinpoint the location" as he finished speaking silence once more descended on the company, a silence filled with the imaginings of the fate of poor Bilbo, for all they could do was wait. Fili guided Kili to the one available chair in the room looking worried; another terrible shock to his younger sibling was not needed. His hand lingered on his brother's shoulder for a half-second more before he straightened abruptly, out of everyone he was the least injured. His face filled with determination as he spoke "I am going to go aid the search if I can, and I will not stop looking until he is found, I am uninjured and I cannot sit here while he may be lying helpless in filth or…or dead" he finally spoke the idea that no one wanted to think about, that their hobbit may already be beyond their reach, but with the light in his eyes and determined tone, hope once more crept into their hearts.

He blinked his eyes open surprised that he still could, was he not dead yet? What had woken him, could he not rest? He heard his name on the breeze, little more than a whisper, everything seemed curiously grey and distorted. Foul whispers where in the air and he could not get his mind to just _focus._ The call came again and he berated himself for his wishful thinking, the voice had sounded heartbreakingly familiar and much closer than the first. His mind was being traitorous, the hope that Fili might be looking for him filled him with pain for he knew it could not be true, the last he laid eye upon the boy his face had been dim and empty of any compassion. Gold sickness could only be chased away with genuine affection or love and he knew is love had been unrequited. He had viewed all the dwarves as family but he was only their burglar. But he could not deny that the voice was almost upon him now, filled with a pained desperation, his name sounded over and over again almost like a plea. He thought he saw a flash of a figure walking towards him, but there was no recognition in their eyes. Hair that should be flashing gold in the sun looked like a pale smudge and it was surely a phantom of his imagination for the figure walked right past him and out of sight. He gave a low moan of agony, why was his mind torturing him so? Why just Fili and not the whole company, if his mind was going to hurt him so he wished he could see everyone. All of a sudden the figure was back, calling his name more urgently and tinged with hope. Finally he could not withstand it; if his mind was going to provide him with these images he would embrace it fully and play along.

He tried to call out but a wet cough sounded instead, his mouth tasted of iron once more, but it had worked to a degree as the silhouette of the figure now blocked out the light of the sun and kneeled before him, but still would not meet his eyes, instead they darted side to side hands hovering uncertainly above him. What he would give to feel that warm hand holding his, he needed comfort as the pain was returning as he struggled to talk, He tried again.

"F-Fili, I wish I could see you now," the small sentence was too much to handle, it took its toll on both his mind and body, the darkness was starting to descend again, but this time he did not want to go, the sight of a member of his family (or at least the apparition of one) he was struck with a tentative hope-just maybe_-maybe _he wasn't imagining this. The figure had finally touched him on his wrist and the warmth of another body shocked him, and it filled him with the desire to live once again, he fought against the darkness as he had not before and it finally receded slightly, the hand fumbling with his for a moment. He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them to see Fili hair shining and blue eyes moist he held his ring in hand, which he slowly put into his pocket, before embracing him fully, gently as if he was a baby bird.

"Bilbo, Bilbo, we were so worried it was too late, please forgive us, we were sick in the mind-" he could not even make out the words Fili was rambling so desperately to him but the soft rumble of his voice comforted him as much as the small touch of his hand did, and the (affection?) shining in Fili's eyes warmed him to his very soul. He could sleep now, he gained his wish, at least partially, to see the company and he was so very tired. His eyes shuttered close and even the pain of being picked up and jostled in hurry did not slow the darkness. A soft smile played across his lips once more as he let go of consciousness unaware of the harsh sobs of Fili as he was rushed to medical tents.


End file.
